Something Good Can Work
by casschels
Summary: Faberry AU! Rachel, a writer, takes a job at a small NYC coffee shop. There, she encounters Quinn- who works at her grandmother's flower shop just across the street and gives Rachel's life a complete 180 degree turn for the... interesting. Written from Rachel's POV.
1. Chapter One: All At Once

**TO: KURT** (6:26AM)

_I'm being tortured. Please come save me?_

So maybe I was being a bit over dramatic, but I did _feel_ like I was being tortured. The smell of coffee and freshly-baked pastries was killing me, partially because I was tired from waking up so early for a new job, and partially because I was starving because I skipped breakfast. Mostly starving.

If there was ever anything I hated more than being tortured with food I couldn't eat, it was waking up before the sun came up. Not really saying I got to "sleep in" however, because with a roommate like Kurt Hummel, waking up after 7:30AM was not really an option. ever. even on saturdays.

It was my first day at my new job, though, and in Rachel Berry's book, first impressions are very important. I figured I was making a good impression so far, with my being there at the crack of dawn, and my shining enthusiasm despite feeling like I could faint any moment from a mixture of exhaustion and hunger.

I had a feeling that Ashley, the shop's owner, liked me though. She was a really sweet lady, about mid forites with blue eyes and short, black hair. She was the one who interveiwed me. She told me about how just she and her daughter used to run the shop years ago, until her cancer relapsed, and her daughter went off to college. She said they almost lost the place, but when she got better and could run it full time again, they managed to save it. She said I reminded her a lot of her daughter, who apparently doesn't visit much anymore. She even hugged me that morning.

She had come out with a dozen croissants earlier (which made me whimper a little because they smelled so good, and I had the slight urge to take the plate and run out the door with it), and had smiled and said "So busy this morning," with a smile and wink.

It was sarcasm, clearly, because in the hour and a half I'd been here, I'd only served one customer.

A part of me wished it was a bit busier. It would have given me something to do.

I was so incredibly bored. The lack of buisness did, however, give me many opportunities to text Kurt and let him know I hadn't committed homicide/suicide yet.

**-NEW MESSAGE-**

**FROM: KURT** (6:29AM)

_Drama Queen._

I wasn't exactly sure if I should be offended. I could have very easily _actually_ been being tortured, and he completely ignored what could have been a genuine cry for help.

In his defensive, I was a drama queen. Also the odds of me being _actually_tortured in a small New York City coffee shop were slim to only-in-a-bad-horror-movie.

**TO: KURT** (6:29AM)

_Rude. I revoke your company having privileges._

If I knew Kurt at all, I knew what the reply to that would be, but I sent the text anyway.

**-NEW MESSAGE-**

oh god.

**FROM: KURT** (6:30AM)

_too late ;)_

Figured. One does not simply revoke Kurt's company having privileges.

* * *

As soon as 6:45 hit, the place was packed. For the first few minutes, I thought I might have a panic attack. All I had to do was take orders and man the register (and pass out a pastry now and then), but it just felt like there was a never ending line of people.

While I felt pretty sorry for myself, I felt even more sorry for the girl who actually had to make the coffee.

After about 25 minutes chaos, it began to slow again. I was informed that there would be an even worse rush in about half an hour, but that the rest of the day would be somewhat peaceful. I was not looking forward to what they meant by "even worse" rush.

I took a moment to relax (barely), and went to text Kurt, but thought better of it, after remembering that he had "company". I had half a mind to text him anyway, and tell him that if I found another pair of my high heels is his bedroom, someone was going to die. Mostly jokingly. Mostly. I didn't, though. I didn't want to give him any ideas. I also didn't want to make him angry and get locked out of the apartment... again.

"Help yourself honey." Ms Ashley insisted. Her voice seeming to come out of nowhere. I must have been staring at the croissants again, but god those were the most glorious words my ears had ever heard.

"I have a fresh batch coming out right now for the next wave of folks, so have as many as you'd like." I felt like my donkey fetuses had been answered, although I hadn't actualy prayed for anything.

Thankfully, for the next 15 minutes, no customers decided to ruin my face stuffing session. While my mouth was busy chewing, my mind was busy developing a plot to kidnap Ms. Ashley and force her to live in my kitchen.

By the time the "even worse" rush started, I was full and ready to kick this job's ass.

Around 9:30, I was sure that I had earned a ten minute break, at least. After serving what felt like hundreds of pretentious hipster kids, I was ready to violently murder anyone else who ordered something like a "small mocha lite with skim whip frap", and then proceeded to take a picture of it with their smart phone. Seriously, what the hell?

The morning rush was over for the most part, and the only customers here were a few older ladies sitting at tables sipping their coffee, and going on about their brand new grand-babies.

I sat down at a table near the window closest to the door, relaxed for the first time all day, and just watched the city move through the old shop window. I started thinking- about how I had longed to live here for so long while I was back in Lima, and how New York really was all I'd hoped it would be. This city was extraordinary. Living here and graduating from NYU with my best friend was extraordinary. I had accomplished so much already- and woah, I was just getting _started_.

I looked out into the streets, that were a bit busy for this time of morning, and kind of just... people watched.

I was forming certain people into characters and giving them backgrounds and stories. A lady passed who was wearing all black everything, and had sunglasses and looked incresingly shady, and I concluded that her name must be Evanna, and she was an undercover Russian spy, obviously trying to stay hidden from someone. Robert, (who was obviously a successful business man because he talked very loudly on his iPhone, and had a nice suit and cool shades) was a lawyer who defended only the richest of clients, and hadn't lost a case yet.

People watching was one of my favorite past-times. It always seemed to give me inspiration to write when I was in a funk., and it was fun.

I needed to people watch more often, seeing as how I was in the middle of a huge writing funk. It was a my passion, but I hadn't written anything in almost three months, and Kurt was almost ready to call my dads and stage an intervention, or take me to a doctor of some kind, something. Truth is, I just didn't have anything to write about. I was already graduated, so I didn't have school to focus on. Now I had this job for some hopeful inspiration, but god knows mankind doesn't need another poem/short story about falling in love in a coffee shop, _blah blah blah_.

The door bell rang, and even though it was probably the end of my break (and then some), I ignored it and continued to stare out of the window, still thinking and creating characters for the occasional interesting looking person.

Whoever walked in was wearing waaaaaay too much perfume.

After only seconds of them being in there, the smell of flowery perfume had already overpowered the smell of coffee.

I looked up, expecting a lady who was older than god, probably with a cane.

Instead, I took in the sight of a the back of (what looked like) a fairly young girl at the counter, holding... flowers. Well, um... that explained the smell.

She stood there patiently, until Ms. Ashley came to the counter, and walked back into the kitchen with herl. The smell of flowers lingered.

I just sat there, a bit confused, but before I could create a character in my head, Ms. Ashley came back out with the flowers. But the girl didn't follow.

I looked in that direction for a minute or two, watching Ashley fiddle with the flowers until they were positoned just right, and waiting for the girl to leave the kitchen, but she never did.

Alright, I needed to investigate. My break was over, anyway.

Ms. Ashley was still messing with the flowers, and I just slipped behind her and peaked into the kitchen. The girl was sitting at a small table, eating something delicious looking, she had on a pale blue dress and a white cardigan. Her hair was short and blonde, and that's all I could see with her back facing me. It looked like she was reading something. ugh, I wanted to see her face.

"Her name is Quinn."

I froze. My sneaking was obviously not that sneaky.

Trying to pretend like I didn't know who she was talking about, I collected myself and choked out a "huh?" in reply.

Ms. Ashley smiled and pointed to the kitchen. "Her name is Quinn, and her grandmother owns the flower shop down the street."

The character was forming in my head already.

"The flowers started when I relapsed," she continued, "and they just never stopped." She was looking at the flowers and smiling even more than before.

Stargazer lilies. They really were beautiful flowers. In fact, I was convinced that they were the prettiest lilies I'd ever seen.

Ms. Ashley went on with her story.

"She makes all the arrangments herself, ya know. No two are ever the same," Ms. Ash trailed off, walking into the kitchen momentarily.

This character, Quinn, was becoming more interesting in my head by the second.

Ms. Ash came back with another batch of croissants, looking prepared to finish her story. The lady loved to talk, not that I was complaining.

"She brings them by at 9:45AM sharp every single Monday, like clockwork. She's never been late."

Quinn- the punctual, tall, blonde who has an obvious knack for flower arrangments and picking flattering dresses.

I decided that it was probably time for me to say something, too. Not that Ashley would have a problem with doing all the talking for me.

"So she keeps bringing them, even though you're not sick anymore?"

She smiled at me softly, before sliding open the little door to the glass display where the rest of the pasties were, and placing the new plate of croissants there.

The last batch of croissants had been attacked by the earlier crowd and were all gone. boo for me.

She wiped her hands, and put the empty plate away before she answered.

"She says that eveyone deserves a Monday pick-me-up. Receiving the flowers is mine, arranging and giving them to me must be hers."

Okay wow. So Quinn- the punctual, tall, blonde who is super pretty from the back and proabably even prettier from the  
front. Her hobbies include arranging unbelievably pretty flowers, and curing the world's Monday Blues, one middle-aged New York City coffee shop owner at a time.

"She sounds really sweet," I mentioned, smiling and concocting possible backgrounds for this Quinn character in my head. I was also running through many possible faces for her.

"She really is."

Ashley went back to the kitchen, and when I glanced at the table Quinn had been sitting at, she was gone. Needless to say, I was a bit disappointed that I still didn't see her face. I guessed that there was an exit in the kitchen, and concluded that it would prove very handy whenever I chose to make my escape...

The doorbell rang then, and _oh god_, I almost cried.


	2. Chapter Two: Monday Afternoons

**TO: KURT** (3:12PM)

_Where r u?_

After surviving my first day of work, I returned to an empty apartment. It was way too quiet here and oh god, I couldn't allow myself to fall asleep right now and mess up my already almost non-existent sleep-schedule. Falling asleep at this time of the day, waking up at 1AM and then not being able to go back to sleep before having to go to work tomorrow was just NOT an option. Unless I ya know, had a death wish.

So after a few minutes of waiting and no reply from Kurt, I decided that the apartment was dangerous and that if I wanted to stay awake and not be miserable tomorrow, I needed to keep myself busy. Also, I needed caffine. Like, immediately.

After a tedious battle with the door lock and an elevator ride that felt endless, I made my way through the lobby and outside, and attempted to hail a cab.

attempted.

**-NEW MESSAGE-**

I lost count of the cabs that passed me by, and I was tired of standing in the cold. I stepped out a bit and whistled (quite loudly) and someone finally stopped. cab drivers are assholes.

**FROM: KURT** (3:19PM)

_went to pick someone up. Will be home in a few._

Well... Leaving the apartment turned out to be a good idea after all.

The cabbie cleared his throat suggestively. I had been too immersed in my phone to relaize that and hadn't actually told him where to drive...

"Sorry. Uh... Think Coffee, 4th Avenue,"

The cab ride there was completely silent and sufficently awkward. I gathered that the cab driver didn't want to speak to me because he thought I was one of those douchbage kids who stayed glued to their phones 24/7 and couldn't even function normally, which is why I didn't check my phone for the duration of the ride. I'd gone 10 minutes without texting Kurt back. oh god, he was probably thought I had been murdered.

Think Coffee. The place smelled wonderful.

I know what you're thinking... I'm a traitor. But 1) I can't just casually stroll up into the place I work and get coffee after I've left for the day. It's weird, okay? and 2) This place was conveniently close to Utrecht, and I needed some new notebooks and pencils and pens and such.

But at the moment, I just really needed coffee. I was in dire need of espresso.

The line was pretty long, and I already knew what I wanted, so I just let my mind wander and began to people watch, again. I was becoming creepy.

Just the usual coffee house dwelling types- a buisness guy on a cell phone with his macbook out, a crew of hipster kids, a few people with books, and a girl in a back booth with what looked like a sketchbook.

I started to think up a background story for Sir Asswipe Talks-a-lot with the mac book, but honestly, I was too tired.

I was also curious as to what the girl in the booth was sketching.

By the time it was my turn in line, the only thing I was thinking about was espressoespressoespressoholy motherofgodgivemealltheespre sso.

* * *

**TO: KURT** (3:47PM)

_omg so I went to that coffee place_

_u were telling me about the other day and it's amazing!_

_So I'm like the Benedict Arnold of the Coffee Shop world_

_but this place is right next to an art supply store &_

_I'm about to go there! Did u know it was right next to a_

_Utrecht? Okay so try to control urself w/ ur company _

_because I am coming home after I'm done the _

_supply store. TC has the best espresso omfgggg._

I was so wired. I felt like I'd just consumed a large cup of "holy shit my life is AWESOME!", and that I needed to skip gleefully down to Utrecht while "Living in the Sunlight" blasted through non-existeant loudspeakers.

But in reality, I just kinda... power-walked to the art supply place. Whatever, close enough.

Holy crap, this store. I could just live in this place.

I meandered for a while, observing the paints and the canvases and the varieties of brushes and other supplies. I was in Wonderland.

I was never really great at drawing or painting, but I still appreicated it. a lot. I was just a different kind of artist; the kind who didn't paint pictures with their hands, but with their words instead.

I finally stumbled across the notebook section I was looking for, right past the sketchbooks. I didn't expect there to be too wide of a variety, but man, was I wrong.

They had notebooks of every size and shape (and even color) you could think of. There were some that had almost 600 pages. SIX HUNDRED PAGES.

And the selection of pens/pencils- don't get me started. I almost fainted.

I had an armful of new notebooks and writing utensils- fully prepared to spend my first paycheck. (which I hadn't even earned yet)

**-NEW MESSAGE-**

I struggled to get my phone with all the stuff I had in my arms, and the dude in front of me in line was trying to bring back purple paint that was apparently "too blue".

**FROM: KURT** (4:19PM)

_Lay off the coffee, you won't sleep tonight._

Even though I felt like a could run a marathon at the moment, I knew there would be an enevitable crash in an hour or so.

**TO: KURT** (4:19PM)

_Oh trust me, I'm going to sleep like a baby._

okay, really? In the amount of time it took me to text Kurt back, someone skipped in front of me in line. A fairly tall girl in a pale blue dress and-

no.

My thoughts ranged from: "oh my god **WHAT** _no_ that is so weird this city is so big what are the **ODDS** are you _serious_?" to "holy shit what if she saw me this morning and recognizes me and thinks that I'm stalking her or something _shit shit_ oh my god **SHIT**"

I tried to stare at the floor until she was done checking out, but...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cut in front of you."

When I looked up, she was right there. Right. There. Smiling, sweetly. Holy mother of eye contact. To say that she was gorgeous would be a tremendous understatment.

"oh, uh.. no it's fine," I stumbled. "texting." I waved my phone towards her a bit. she smiled again.

I moved up in line to pay for my things, (at this point I'd almost forgotten I even had anything) and she left.

it occurred to me while the register guy was ringing me up- that my Quinn character now had a definite face. And she totally didn't look like what I'd imagined, but it was nothing anywhere close to a let down. seriously.

"Your total will be $89.43."

How the hell?

* * *

So after returning to Think Coffee for another double shot expresso, I settled down at a booth in the back with one of my new notebooks, and found myslef faced with a familiar problem- I had absolutely no clue where to begin.

I sat there for a while, hopelessly sipping coffee over a blank notebook.

**-NEW MESSAGE-**

**FROM: KURT** (4:33PM)

_We're ordering some take-out. interested?_

Yeah, I wasn't too interested in heading home to a an... awkward dinner with one of Kurt's new "friends".

**TO: KURT** (4:34PM)

_Not hungry._

hmm, that sounded a bit cold. It was also untrue.

So, I left my booth momentarily to acquire one of the amazing looking sandwhiches from the glass case at the counter, and when I returned, I still had absolutley no fucking idea what to write.

I couldn't really properly people watch, because the only people in that place were those damn hipster kids. Did they like, live here or something?

And then it hit me. Like a fist, or a slushie (oh god, memories), or a freaking brick wall or something.

Quinn!

I started making a character of her earlier today, so why not write about her, right? Even if it was a bit creepy. You know what, fuck creepy. If someone thought I was interesting and wanted to write about me, I'd be flattered.

So I was giddy that I actually had an idea to work with, and I just kinda... wrote. Beginning with what I'd seen of Quinn earlier that day, I started listing things of the strictly physical nature.

_Quinn. Tall-ish. short blonde hair. Fair complextion. Thin, but not too thin. practically flawless skin. Emerald green eyes. soft facial features. unconventionally_

_beautiful in a simple way._

I skipped to the next page, leaving room so that I could go and fill in new things later. Then, I moved on to listing personality attributes.

_Quinn. Feels that "everyone desereves a Monday pick-me-up", and arranges and delievers a special bouquet of flowers for Ms. Ashley every single Monday. Arrives precisely at 9:45AM every Monday to deliver said flowers. So, punctual and kind. Might also be an artist. Painter, perhaps? _

I thought about what I'd seen Quinn buying at Utrecht earlier- two fairly large canvases, and basket full of paints, charcoals, pencils, and probably lots more, because that basket was slam packed with stuff.

I really hadn't written much at all at that point, but it was a start. I had written something of (somewhat) substance, and oh god it felt like someone had finally entered the dark room I'd been sitting in for months and flipped the damn light switch.

**TO: KURT** (5:09PM)

_Home in a few._

* * *

After fussing with my huge bag full of art shit for an unknown period of time, I managed to get the apartment door open, and walk into what seemed like an alternate universe.

For one, Kurt and his guest were both fully clothed, and two, Kurt's guest was _Blaine Anderson_.

In my moment of utter disbelief and confusion and excitement, I said exactly what I was thinking.

"You've _got_ to be actually fucking kidding me."

Kurt was standing in the kitchen, putting away various takeout containers, and I heard him laugh. fairly loudly.

Blaine laughed too, and got up from where he was sitting. "I'm not actually fucking kidding you."

I squeeled, dropped my bags, and tackle-hugged him. Like, full on tackle-hugged. We almost hit the floor. Kurt seemed unphased, putting dishes away like it was his freakin' career.

"Holy shit when did you get here? Because if you just got here we have to go see all the sights, like, right now. Have you been to Coney Island yet? Oh my god, you have to let me take your Coney Island virginity instead of Kurt; he's already taken enough of your virginities." I heard something crash to the floor in the kitchen, but nothing shattered so I guess it wasn't anything important. Blaine flushed a bit and smiled.

"I-" Blaine tried to speak, but he should have known by then that when I'm that excited, you're not allowed to get a word in edgewise.

"Are you going to NYU now? I thought you were going to college in Cincinnati? What was your major again because I-"

"I told you to lay off the espresso," Kurt urged, finally emmerging from the kitchen. He sat down on the loveseat and Blaine followed. I sat in the recliner. Kurt seemed a bit flushed, and I guessed it was due to my earlier comment. "It makes you talk even more than usual."

Coffee aside, I was just really excited to see Blaine. I hadn't seen him since Kurt and I graduated from McKinley, when he was still a junior.

"Sorry, you talk now." I did the zipping-my-lips motion, but all of us knew that wouldn't last long.

"Well, I was going to college in Cincinnati, but I just kept feeling like I was... missing something," Blaine paused for a moment and looked at Kurt with a smile before continuing. Kurt smiled back.

"So, I'm starting my senior year of college here in New York, at NYU. My parents are putting up rent for an apartment and everything, so I guess you'll be seeing a lot more of me." Blaine finished, and nudged Kurt playfully. Kurt nudged back, and they both laughed.

These two. I was getting butterflies just looking at them. The looks they shared were like, made of cotton candy.

I suddenly felt like the third wheel.

"Well, I'm just gonna take my stuff to my room," I said, without being fully acknowleged. Blaine nodded, Kurt smiled. "You two kids behave."

After I left the room, they were conversing comfortably and as if I hadn't just been in there three seconds ago. If it would have been anyone else I would have been a bit offended, but not them. it was different. A part of me hoped they'd take this golden opportunity to rekindle that old fire, because they were just too damn perfect for each other. Watching them interact was like, watching two really fluffy puppies snuggle.

* * *

After putting all of my new notebooks and what-nots away, I flopped down on my bed, and stared at the ceiling. I heard movement in the living room, and eventually the front door opened, and then closed again. I guessed that Kurt was still here, but I wasn't entirely sure, and I didn't have the energy to get up and check.

I just blankly stared, too tired to actually think. If you've ever had popcorn ceiling, you'd know that if you stare at it long enough, it looks like the popcorn pieces go inside the actual ceiling, instead of the other way around. trippy. I then, realized, how weird it was that the bedrooms in this apartment where the only rooms that had popcorn ceilings... also, who even came up with the term "popcorn ceiling" anyway?

My bedroom door opened, and Kurt stood in the threshold, propping himself up against the door frame.

We were just silent for a while, mostly because I was too exhausted to carry on a conversation. I think it was safe to assume that I'd crashed.

"So you're writing again?" Kurt asked, gesturing toward the desk that sported five new notebooks. wow, I bought five notebooks. Why did I buy five notebooks?

"I'm trying," I said. I couldn't move at this point. "I wrote something earlier, but it wasn't much. I'm getting there, though."

Kurt laughed a little, and let out a sigh. "Baby steps, Rach."

I laughed too.

"So we'll talk about what just occurred in our living room over breakfast tomorrow, right?" I asked into the ceiling. Kurt was no longer  
in the doorway, and I had no clue where he'd gone.

"Maybe." judging from where his voice came from, I figured he was in the kitchen. again.

I didn't say anything else. I was drifting in and out.

"Try to stay awake Rach, it's only 5:45."

I was sure waking up before 6AM wouldn't be an issue.

* * *

I woke up about an hour later, to Kurt putting me under my covers and tucking me in.

He shh-ed me after I whined about needing to get up to change clothes, kissed me on the top of my head, and told me to go back to sleep.

I gladly obliged.


	3. Chapter Three: Girl Is On My Mind

Orchids.

Orchids were the flowers of this week. Orange Orchids, to be exact. I wasn't aware that Orchids could even be orange. But Quinn had a few of them in a tall, thin white vase, and she had on a dress that matched them perfectly.

So now she planned outfits to match the flowers she delivered? How was she even real?

Quinn and Mrs. Ashley ventured back into the kitchen like they did every week, and I sat down at the window for my morning break with a blueberry muffin and a cup of coffee. I thought about getting up to retrieve my notebook from my bag, but I honestly didn't feel like getting up.

It was unseasonably warm today, and as I looked out of the window at the city, I saw that people were taking advantage of it and wearing short-sleeves, and a few were even wearing _shorts_. I didn't understand. Who wears shorts in the middle of January?

Suddenly the doorbell rang, and I cringed a little at the thought of getting up to serve a customer.

I looked away from the window, only to find Kurt sitting across from me.

"Hi?" I said questioningly, but with a smile. It's not that I didn't like the surprise, I just.. well, it was a surprise.

"Hi," he greeted. He reached into his bag and pulled something out, and placed it on the table.

My notebook. I was certainly glad I hadn't gotten up earlier to get it.

"I thought you might need this," he said. "I didn't want you to think you'd lost it or something, and have a repeat of the Regional's setlist fiasco."

oh god no. that was awful. I misplaced the setlist for glee club regionals a week before the competition, and I had a panic attack and almost had to go to the hospital. Turned out it was under my bed the entire time, but I was still traumatized.

"oh no, I thought we agreed to never speak of that again?" I whispered, only half-jokingly.

he laughed for a moment and smiled, but looked at me seriously.

"I'm really glad you're writing again, Rach. You had me worried."

I looked at him seriously, too. and I smiled back.

Sometimes it's nice to have people worry about you. It's nice to know they care enough to worry.

I didn't notice that the kitchen door had opened again, until Quinn was walking toward the front door, waving to me on her way out. I  
faltered, but waved back.

Kurt waited until Quinn was completely out of the building before letting out an excited "oh my god", which was pretty loud and high-pitched, and startled a woman in the back of the place.

"That's Quinn, isn't it?" He looked way too excited. And how did he know that?

"Yeah, but how do you-"

"The girl you wrote about," he interuppted, "That's her, right?"

I was appauled. Someone had been in my room without permission. Again.

"You little," I grabbed my notebook and held it protectivly. "you've been reading my notebook without permission, asshole!"

He was laughing, and looked the least bit guilty. I sat the notebook back down on the table, because trying to protect it now was  
pointless.

"I'm gonna kick you out if you don't stay out of my room!" I tried to sound serious, but he was laughing, and I couldn't help but laugh too.

He stood up, and grabbed my hand to try to make me stand up as well.

"c'mon," he said, pulling at my arm. forcefully.

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Kuuuuuuuurt, it's my break! where do you even want me to go?"

I was pouting at this point. He was still pulling.

"Well, I'm gonna stand there," he said, pointing to the counter, "and you're gonna fix a large non-fat mocha for me."

asshole.

I reluctantly got up, and followed him to the counter. I'd just learned how to make drinks last week, so after I returned to my  
position behind the counter, I took a moment to... remember where everything was.

"Make sure it's non-fat," Kurt sing-songed, and I just smirked at him and held up the non-fat milk.

"So where are you going today?" I asked, trying not to kill myself with the espesso machine.

"Well, I'm gonna meet Blaine for lunch..." he trailed off. I raised an eyebrow, he rolled his eyes.

I handed him his mocha, that may or may not have contained small traces of my blood because of that damn espresso machine.

He tasted it, and gave a thumbs up. Success.

leaning over the counter, Kurt gave me an overexaggerated kiss on the cheek. "See you later, don't kill anyone."

"I can't promise anything," I laughed. but seriously. I wasn't promising anything.

So Kurt left, and the rest of the morning rush entered.

Joy.

* * *

It had gotten colder throughout the day, and I couldn't help but feel bad for all the people who I'd seen wearing shorts that morning.

But it was still a pretty day, and I felt like taking advantage of it.

So I gathered up my bag and put on my jacket, said goodbye to Ms. Ashley, and decided to go to Central Park.

**TO: KURT** (3:02PM)

_Going to the park, be home later._

I took a minute to admire Quinn's flowers. I couldn't help but thinking that they were the prettiest flowers I had ever seen, but then again, I'd said that last week about the lilies.

I put in an earbud- not both though, because it's kind of dangerous and I don't want to get hit by a rougue car or anything- went to  
my favorite Pandora station, and headed out the front door.

As soon as I actually entered the park, though, I remembered why I didn't go there often.

_couples_.

so. many. _couples_.

and not just your standard happy couples. The obnoxious kind of happy couples, the ones that just look _too_ happy. The kind that look so willing to rub their happiness in my face. and then there was the occasional "get a room" type of couple. better, but not much.

By the time I reached a park bench, I had become quite bitter.

As I sat in the park with my notebook in my lap, gazing at the New York City Skyline, I just felt so _lonely_. The lack of people in the surrounding area and earlier couples were contirbuting factors, but this was a normal occurance for me. I was fimiliar with this feeling of being lonely- of wishing there were more people who cared about me. people who weren't, ya know, Kurt. Or my dads. Actually, ever since I was about eleven, the only time I remember _not_ being lonely was when I was reading, or writing.

I remembered the notebook in my lap. I opened it, retrieved my pen from my bag, and wasted no time getting started.

_Quinn likes dresses. But she won't wear just any dress, so she sews her dresses herself. She chooses most fabrics based on how well they match her favorite flowers._

_Quinn likes flowers that are pretty in a subtle way. She likes flowers that are pretty in an obvious way, too. Anything in between she finds boring._

_Quinn likes books that use lots of metephors. She likes to use rare words that most people don't know exist, and she likes explaining their meanings._

_Quinn likes to take pictures. of anything. of everything._

_Quinn likes staying up all night to watch the sun rise, and then sleeping all day._

_Quinn likes having tea in the morning and coffee in the afternoon._

_Quinn likes realizing she can't fit another book in her bookshelf, because it means she gets to buy a new bookshelf to fill. She has quite a few bookshelves._

My eyes drifted up from the paper, towards the sunset. I wondered if real-life Quinn was anything like the Quinn I was making up in my head. Then, I wondered if there were _any_ people who were really like the Quinn I was making up in my head.

and that's when it it hit me-

the fucking sun was setting.


	4. Chapter Four: Everybody Talks

After my alarm woke me on yet another Monday, I laid in bed for a while. Kurt would usually be up around this time making coffee or something, but it was quiet, so I assumed that he'd just stayed over at Blaine's or something.

I reluctantly pulled myself out of bed, and got dressed for work- jeans and a black long sleeved shirt- and headed towards the bathroom. I glanced into the living room and...

oh god.

The first thing that caught my eye was the lamp nearest the door that had been knocked into the floor. It was undoubtedly broken.

second, there were clothes and pillows EVERYWHERE. The room was fucking destroyed. There was a shirt and a pair of pants on the tv. and there was a bowtie on the-

Wait. a bowtie. a goddamn bowtie.

Holy sweet hell.

I was close enough now that I could tell that someone was on the couch, and it was just as I'd suspected.

Kurt and Blaine.

And they were naked.

I immediately retreated to my room. I was kind of in shock- it's not every Monday morning you stumble into your living room only to find it destroyed, and your best friend and his highschool sweetheart passed out on your couch. Naked. Even for me this was unusual.

Naturally, I did what anyone would do when faced with this situation.

I laughed. hard.

and then I decided to be a smart ass and make them breakfast.

So, I ventured out into the living room towards the kitchen, threw a blanket over the two of them, and made a series of unnecessarily loud noises.

Kurt could sleep through a hurricane, so he didn't even flinch, but Blaine woke up immediately and shook Kurt awake. Blaine's expression resembled that of a lost puppy, and Kurt just looked pissed that someone had the nerve to wake him up. When he saw that it was Blaine who had woke him, his expression softened. He squeezed Blaine's arm slightly to calm him, but Blaine looked really embarrassed to be in this spot. Kurt, on the other hand, he was a little more accustomed to being in these kinds of... predicaments.

"You guys are probably very hungry," I shouted while nosily searching for the skillet, "so I'll make breakfast before I go to work."

Kurt threw me a questioning look. It wasn't a particularly nice look either.

"How about eggs and sausage?"

Blaine turned noticeably red, Kurt rolled his eyes at me, and I just laughed and dodged the pillow that was hurled at me about two seconds later.

I turned my back towards the living room so that they could both retrieve their underwear (if they could even find them), and I heard a lot of movement and then a huge thud, and an "oh my god are you okay" from Kurt, and then laughter. So after the movement calmed down and I figured it was clear to turn around, I continued on with my breakfast en devour. I decided that I should cook something that wouldn't make breakfast awkward, so we all agreed that pancakes sounded alright.

While I was cooking and Blaine was looking for his pants, Kurt was trying to go back to sleep, so I made even more unnecessarily loud noises and dodged a second pillow that was thrown at my head.

* * *

I finally got to work at 7:30 after having a surprisingly not-so-awkward breakfast with Kurt and Blaine, only to find the door locked and the sign in the window flipped to "closed". My heart sank when I realized that it was Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and I was incredibly pissed that I missed an opportunity to sleep in. So, since pretty much everything else was closed too, I thought I'd take advantage of this day off and head back home and... crawl back in bed.

It was still a nice day, so I chose to walk home and at least try to enjoy it, even though it was freezing cold.

I really hoped it would snow soon- New York was beautiful when it snowed. It flurried a good bit about two weeks before, but since then everything had melted into a miserable mess of slush and ice. I used to love going to Central Park after fresh snow had fallen, and I hadn't done that in quite some time. I concluded that it was well overdue. and who knew, maybe the next time it snowed and I took a trip to the park, maybe I'd meet someone there and, ya know, the whole "fate" thing would finally happen. Fate brought Blaine to New York to be with Kurt, wasn't it about time for it to bring someone to me?

I was so lost in my thoughts, I failed to notice the glass door blocking my path until I was about an inch away... therefore, I crashed right into it.

Here's the funny thing about fate- sometimes, it slaps you in the face. In my case, it slammed my face into a flower shop door.  
Hard.

* * *

In the city, you have to pay close attention or you will run into shit. I'd learned that lesson about a year ago after walking into a street cart and spilling hot coffee all over myself, and as I stood there in pain with one hand on the door holding myself up, and one hand on my potentially broken nose, I was learning it all over again.

"oh my god, are you okay?" Yeah, that was a really stupid question. The voice sounded concerned and vaguely familiar, though.

It was Quinn.

Yeah, I couldn't catch a fucking break. She probably thought I was an idiot, and I wouldn't blame her. At this point, I'd probably agree with her.

"Oh god, you're bleeding."

That wasn't surprising at all.

"We should to get some ice on that," she said, rubbing my back soothingly. She helped me keep my balance as I removed my  
hand from the door so that I could step into the shop.

With my head tilted back in order to stop the bleeding, I was struggling to walk a straight line, so Quinn guided me to a small stool behind the counter.

She disappeared through a door I wasn't able to locate because of all of the tissues in my face, and returned a few moments later with a ziplock bag full of ice that was wrapped in a dishtowel.

I replaced the tissues with the ice, while Quinn grabbed a different stool and sat down next to me, putting her hand on my shoulder in an effort to comfort me.

"Any better?" She said in a soft, sympathetic tone.

Actually, yes. The pain had dulled down to a bearable point, and I no longer wanted to cry... as much.

"A little," I answered, repositioning the ice bag so that my voice wouldn't be muffled. "but I'm clumsy, so I'm used to it."

I chuckled, because I really was _so_ used to this.

I ran into things all the time, and Kurt had pretty much mastered the art of first aid.

She sighed in what I hoped was relief, and a relaxed look returned to her face.

She stood up and moved her hand toward the ice pack, and nudged me to move my hand so that she could inspect the injury.

"It's definitely going to bruise, but I don't think it's broken." she diagnosed, and returned to her stool.

When the bleeding stopped, I was finally able to observe my surroundings.

The very first thing I noticed was that everything was so organized. Like, there wasn't _any _clutter. anywhere. The arrangements were even in color coordinated groups.

The walls were a light aqua color, and were lined with all kinds of interesting watercolors and paintings. The art wasn't even relevant  
to the merchandise, but it just... worked. so well. There were watercolors of several different animals and even people, and there were paintings of central park, of the city, of other cities, abstract multimedia... it was just, wow.

Then, I remembered when I'd run into Quinn at the art supply store. The encounter was what lead me to make my Quinn character an artist- so I wondered if my assumption was correct, and if I knew who these paintings belonged to.

I quickly glanced at Quinn, who I realized was now laying on the ground.

...okay.

She looked up at me from below with bright eyes, and gestured for me to join her on the hardwood floor.

I did.

Quinn pointed to the ceiling, more specifically to a skylight that was there.

We laid there and looked through the glass- at the clouds, the birds, the faint outline of hovering skyscrapers.

It was Quinn who finally broke the comfortable silence.

"what's your favorite color?"

I turned to look at her, and she kept her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Since I didn't answer after a few seconds, she continued. "mine's white," she spoke. "because it's simple and clean, and it goes  
with anything."

I watched her lips as they slowly turned up into smile, and her eyes as they slowly drifted closed.

"mine is black."

Quinn scrunched up her face in a playful smirk. As I returned my gaze toward the ceiling, I felt hers hit the side of my cheek. "Why is that?"

"because it's all of the colors combined, so that way I don't have to really pick," I reasoned.

"But if you had to choose one color exclusively," she interrogated, turning her whole body to face me and resting her head on her  
arm. "which one would you chose?"

"Just one color? Sounds like too much of a commitment," I teased.

We laughed. My laugh came out sounding kind of loud and raspy, while Quinn's was soft and quiet. I answered, "yellow, I guess."

"Yellow- the color of sunshine." she added as she stood up, and leaned over me.

she held her hand out. "C'mon."

* * *

By that point, I had pretty much forgotten about the pain I was in ten minutes ago.

I took Quinn's hand and she helped me to stand, and then lead me to the front door.

I watched her as she closed and locked the door, closed the blinds, and flipped the sign in the window to "closed".

I wore a puzzled look on my face as I waited for her to explain.

"It's cold outside."

well it's January, so... yeah. but what did that have to do with-

"Let's get some hot chocolate."

I just stood there, staring at her. She was so- peculiar, but in a good way. In the best way.

"But you already locked-"

"Everything is closed, so we'll go upstairs and I'll make some," she interrupted, a smile blooming on her face. "I promise it'll be  
good, c'mon!"

she grabbed my hand again, this time forcing me to keep up with her as she sprinted towards the door behind the counter (which i  
presumed was the door I'd been trying to locate earlier), and up the narrow staircase that lay behind it.

We reached the top of the staircase, and entered what I assumed was Quinn's apartment. The living room was no where as inviting  
as the shop downstairs- the walls were white and blank, with exposed cement in places. It was nice, but it lacked color and...  
personality. Obviously the person that decorated downstairs and the person that decorated this room were not one and the same. As I walked further into the living room, I noticed how high the ceilings were. At least thirty feet, I imagined.

Above the living room was a loft, which Quinn told me was her bedroom. She said that there was another bedroom that belonged to her grandmother, who also lived here.

After observing the room a bit more, I looked back to Quinn. She was taking off her shoes, and throwing them into the living room to be dealt with later.

"Race you to the kitchen!"

She barely got the words out of her mouth before she was off, and I was chasing after her. She got an unfair head start, though.

I was almost caught up with her, when she stopped dead in her tracks. Standing between us and the kitchen was an old woman in  
a bathrobe, who looked.. less than pleased.

The lady snapped at us. She mostly ignored me and focused on Quinn, however. "What on EARTH do you think you're doing?"

Quinn hesitated to answer her. "This is... um... Rachel, and we... uh," she stuttered, avoiding the woman's eyes. "I was going to make hot chocolate for us."

Ms. Ashley must have told Quinn about me, because... I hadn't introduced myself. But she knew my name. Had she asked about  
me?

"And who exactly is watching the store?" the woman scolded.

"I... locked up early."

The lady then shifted her focus to me. "Go home. Quinn has to work." She looked back to Quinn, who was glaring at her by this point, and returned to her room.

I turned to Quinn, and she seemed to be quite frustrated.

She sighed. "I'm sorry. She's a bitch," she shook her head, and continued into the kitchen.

In Quinn's defence, her grandmother hadn't directly her to go back to work...

While Quinn put milk into a black kettle and set it on the stove, I took a seat at the bar. I watched her as she gently put two white tea cups on the table for us.

**-NEW MESSAGE-**

I looked at my phone long enough to see that the message was from Kurt, as always. I didn't want to be rude, so I ignored it.

Quinn reached into a cabinet and pulled out a small white container, and carefully spooned out cocoa into the tea cups.

I usually just use the packets of cocoa, but that worked too.

The kitchen was the same dull color as the living room, and the two ran together seamlessly without walls to separate them.  
Everything was decorated in black and white with splashes of grey. Quinn was the only source of color in these rooms- with her lightly red lips and sea-foam green dress that matched her eyes perfectly.

The kettle whistled, and Quinn quickly lifted it from the stove top and poured equal amounts of hot milk into both teacups.

From the same cabinet she'd retrieved the white cocoa jar, she took a different white jar from. She dipped a spoon into the new  
mixture, dropped some into both of the cups, and stirred.

She handed me my cup, as she sipped from hers.

"What, no marshmallows?" I joked. She just bit her lip and motioned for me to take a sip.

So I did, and holy shit it was the best hot chocolate I've ever had. I can't even describe how good it was.

My eyes widened and I licked my lips. "oh my god, this is stupid good."

Quinn was already wearing a huge grin. "I made the mixes myself."

Between the taste of the cocoa and the sight of Quinn, I was at a serious risk of sensory overload.

"I thought I made it clear that you were to go back to work," Quinn's face fell as we both turned to see her grandmother standing  
there, yet again.

"And for you to go home," she continued. "I don't like to be disobeyed." She stared at both of us and left yet again. We heard her  
bedroom door slam, this time.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "We'll just go downstairs."

She grabbed another small glass jar from the cabinet, put it in her dress pocket, and picked up her cup.

As we made our way back down the stairs, I was extra careful with my cup in my hand. I definitely did not want to spill a single drop of that cocoa, and these tea cups also looked pretty expensive...

I reclaimed my stool behind the counter, while Quinn was unlocking the door and-

**-INCOMING CALL-**

I looked at my phone and then at Quinn, who was returning to her stool next to me. I mouthed the words "one second", and  
answered the call.

"_RACHEL BARBRA BERRY GET TO THIS HOUSE IMMEDIATELY I NEED YOU RIGHT NOW._"

He was so loud that I actually had to move the phone away from my ear a little. God, Kurt was the biggest drama queen.

"what? why? Is everything okay?"

"_JUST COME HOME. NOW. PLEASE. OH MY GOD._"

click.

Quinn looked confused, and... well, I was confused too.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I have to go see what he's on about," I said, returning my phone to my jacket pocket. "the cocoa was so good, and thank you for the ice."

I stood up and Quinn followed, and she joined me as I walked to the front door.

"Here, I want you to have this." She went to her pocket, and handed me the small glass mason jar that she'd taken from the cabinet a few minutes ago. "it's my special cocoa mixture."

I gladly took the jar, and slipped it into my bag.

"I'll see you later, Quinn." I said. I immediately regretted it, since we'd never actually introduced ourselves, and she was probably  
now wondering how I knew her name. but on the other hand, she knew my name too. Either way, she didn't seemed phased by  
what I'd said.

"I'm sure you will," she smiled.

* * *

When I returned to the apartment, Blaine was gone and Kurt was in the kitchen preparing... oh god.

macaroni and cheese. I knew that it could only mean one thing-

comfort food.

I instantly braced myself for bad news.

"Wow, okay what happened to your face?"

Kurt was always so nice and welcoming.

"That's a fantastic way to greet your best friend," I said, flopping down on the couch. "Now what was so important that I was  
ordered to come back here for?"

"But what happened to your face?"

"long story."

"I have time."

"Just please tell me what you were freaking out about."

"Not until you tell me what happened to your face."

"I ran into a door."

"Again?"

"Yes, again."

"oh," Kurt said, resting on the couch beside me. "just making sure someone didn't clock you."

asshole.

I was staring him down, waiting for an answer as to why I had been forced to leave Quinn and rush over. After a few seconds, Kurt's uncontrollable giggle fit told me that there was obviously not any bad news. That still didn't explain the mac and cheese, really...


	5. Chapter Five: Possibly, Maybe

Kurt was sitting there giggling like a mad man, and I was still clueless. before I could come to any real conclusions in my head, he was blurting out "Blaine and I are official. Again."

I stared at him with wide eyes, and he stared back at me excitedly.

This was the big emergency that had ripped me from my lovely morning with Quinn.

KURT ELIZABETH FUCKING HUMMEL YOU ARE A DRAMA QUEEN AND SOMETIMES I WANT TO SET YOU ON FIRE. I thought to myself, and had half a mind to voice it out loud, but that would have only lead Kurt going on about "NEWS IS ONLY IMPORTANT WHEN IT HAS TO DO WITH YOU" and blah blah blah. I didn't want to fight right now. I didn't want anything to ruin my fantastic mood- because i'd just spent my morning with Quinn, and it had been fucking fantastic.

"That was your emergency?"

"yes."

"KURT."

"What?"

"You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry..."

"It's okay but-"

"We had sex three times."

"KURT."

"And that was only after you left!"

"OH MY GOD."

It was then that I became hyper-aware of the debauchery that had recently taken place on the very couch that I was sitting on, and I instantly jumped up to my feet.

"FUCK OFF, KURT." I yelled playfully, grabbing the nearest pillow and pretending to smother his stupid face. "CAN YOU LIKE, CONTAIN YOURSELF AND YOUR BOYFRIEND TO YOUR BEDROOM PLEASE?" Kurt was laughing uncontrollably by that point.

I started to wonder why we'd only ever had two noise complaints. I was convinced that we were the loudest fucking people on the face of this planet.

Kurt was still cackling loudly as I retreated to my bedroom, and slammed the door shut.

* * *

The next day I arrived to work late, due to accidentally sleeping through my alarm.

I looked rough. The area around my nose was blotchy and bruised, and I had a band-aid covering up a small gash on my nose that I'd discovered after returning home the day before. I also had a killer headache. Basically, the way I looked perfectly matched the way I felt- shitty.

I walked through the front door and found Quinn at the counter, placing not one, but two vases of flowers there.

It was kind of strange, seeing her here with flowers on a Tuesday instead of Monday. Turning to see who had come through the door, Quinn saw that it was me and smiled sweetly. She motioned for me to come to where she was, and I did.

I observed the flowers- several orange tulips in a thin white vase, and a dozen yellow roses in a light blue vase. I watched her hand move to the blue vase of roses, and her fingers rested on a small card that I hadn't noticed at first. She gently pushed the vase towards me. The card was tiny, and was attached to a white ribbon that was tied around the stems of the roses.

I opened the card, and began to read the words that were written in neat cursive writing:

_Rachel, every flower has a meaning. I hope you feel better.  
-Quinn_

I looked back to Quinn, who was leaning into the roses and taking in their lovely scent. I mimicked her, and leaned into the flowers as well. I let my eyes drift closed as I inhaled the sweet aroma, but I quickly opened them back when I felt Quinn's hand briefly touch mine. I watched her as she walked away towards the door, and as she stopped to wave goodbye to me. I returned the gesture, and she left.

I directed my gaze toward the flowers. I knew what yellow roses meant- and as I leaned in to smell the flowers again, a smile bloomed on my face. This was Quinn's way of saying that she considered me her friend. Quinn was thinking of me while she was arranging these flowers.

Something deep within my stomach churned, and I felt as if someone had let a dozen butterflies loose inside of me.

* * *

**TO: KURT (3:34PM)**

_Are you home? I got some takeout._

I struggled to open the door between the roses I was carrying with one arm, and the huge bag of Chinese food with the other. I fiddled with the lock carefully, trying not to move the flowers too much and spill the water in their vase.

After I finally got the damn door to open, I made my way to the kitchen counter and sat everything down.

**FROM: KURT (3:36PM)**

_Thank God, I'm starving. I'm right behind you, be there in a minute._

I didn't feel the need to reply, so I shoved my phone back into my pocket and shuffled over to the medicine cabinet. I grabbed three aspirins- I dropped the first one into the blue vase that held the lovely yellow roses that Quinn had given me (My dads always told me that aspirins help flowers live longer), and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge so I could take the other two.

As soon as I downed the pills, Kurt walked through the front door.

He immediately dropped his bag and rushed into the kitchen, completely ignoring me and attacking the bag of food. "You got shrimp and lobster sauce for me, right?" He said.

If there was one thing Kurt was especially enthusiastic about, it was food, which was why he wasn't particularly fond the nights that I cooked. So, we had takeout a lot. It was really a miracle that we weren't grossly overweight.

"Well, hello to you too."

* * *

I placed several containers of food on the coffee table in the living room, along with some napkins and forks (fuck chopsticks), and we both settled on the floor.

Kurt was chowing down on some fried rice, and I decided to start with some Low Mein.

"So who are the flowers from?" Kurt asked with a mouth full of food. I hesitated to answer for a moment, because I was trying to figure out when he'd even had time to notice the flowers.

"Oh, um. Quinn gave them to me... so that I would feel better."

Kurt looked toward the flowers and back to me, a smirk forming on his face. "Well maybe she likes you, Rachel!" he said with a chuckle. I knew he was joking, but as soon as he mentioned it, I just started _thinking_ about Quinn and "_what if_" this and "_what if_" that and I got so wrapped up in my thoughts that I wasn't even aware that Kurt was kind of staring at me. He could always tell when I was hiding something, but then again I wasn't too great at hiding things anyway.

I sat helplessly as I felt my cheeks blush and the butterflies return. I averted my eyes to the floor to try to avoid Kurt's, but I felt his eyes on me anyway. It was no use, I was going to have to deal with this. Now.

I looked back up, and Kurt looked almost confused. "So she's not just someone you're writing about?" Kurt asked, even though I had no intention of giving him an answer. He was smiling now, like he was hearing some kind of hot gossip. In a way, I guess he kind of was...

"You like her, don't you?"

I blushed even harder. I buried my face into my palms, looking at Kurt through my fingers. His mouth dropped open and by this point he'd forgotten all about the food in front of him.

he muttered "oh my god" a couple times, crawled a few inches and sat in front of me, and then he peeled my hands from my face.

"You should tell her," he said, moving a stray piece of hair out of my face. "Nothing is ever going to happen if you don't tell her."

"I know, but not now. She's my friend, and I don't want to tell her that I _like_ her and freak her out, because if she doesn't feel the same way, it will ruin everything."

Seriously, that was the story of my life. I get a great friend, and then develop feelings for that friend that will never be reciprocated the same way. I tell that friend, that friend tells me to back off, and then everything is ruined. I couldn't do that with Quinn. I hadn't know her that long, and I already couldn't think about losing her. Was I going crazy?

"Oh, honey." Kurt said as he pulled me into a warm hug. "It's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all." he teased, tapping my nose with his finger.

I looked at him and smiled. "Bullshit," I teased back.


End file.
